


Patches of Grey

by theonetryingtolive



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Soulmate AU, Soulmates, hurt comfort, soulmark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 01:49:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20649221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetryingtolive/pseuds/theonetryingtolive
Summary: Snowflakes kissed his torn skin, and every word the Doc spoke was useless. So this was why his soulmate would reject him.





	Patches of Grey

His birth had caused his mother nothing but grief. All mothers waited with giddy excitement to see where the patches of grey ink would appear in their newborn babies. These patches of ink were the places where their soulmates would touch them for the first time. Once soulmates touched skin for the first time, the grey would slowly transform, and their skin would be forever marked with colour. Every mother waited with excitement to discover patches of grey on their babies arms, or legs, on their babies hands. 

Joe Toye had been nothing but a disappointment since day one. He had been born with the mark of a hand on his cheek, and nothing else. Just one hand on his cheek, signalling to everyone who would ever come across him that his first interaction with his soulmate was going to be in the form of a slap. His mother had cried for hours, and even though his father had tried to console her, it had been in vain. Joe had been pushed to the side by his mother, her attention focused on having another child. When his sister was born with grey on her lips, she had been ecstatic. Yes, her little Mary was perfect. Of course the first touch of her soulmate would be in the form of a kiss. Joe had watched from the sidelines as they pampered her, as they devoted all their love and attention to her. It was fair, he supposed. What kind of parent would love a child who did something so awful the soulmate said child would slap them upon meeting them? 

Joe grew up lonely, playing with toy soldiers in the living room floor while her mother took his sister out to watch films, and eat cotton candy. He grew used to being in the shadows, only coming forth when summoned by his sister to help him reach something or other on one of the higher cabinets of the kitchen. Because of this it was easy, expected really, that when the war broke out, he should enlist. He was one of the first to enlist in his town, and his unusual soulmark made him the butt of countless jokes in bootcamp. 

Joe Toye had thick skin, developed during his years of emotional frailty, and perfected after surviving bootcamp. Nowadays nothing bothered him, nowadays he didn’t give a shit whether or not half his face was grey. Nobody cared either, not out in a goddamn snowy forest where more than one of them was sure to blow up any second. When the fires started to ring out, a strange feeling in his gut made him smile. Just for a second, not because of fear, but because suddenly there was exhilaration in every intake of breath. The next thing he knew he was screaming, looking up at the sky, watching as the splinters of what was left of his life fell around him. 

Snowflakes kissed his torn skin, and every word the Doc spoke was useless. So this was why his soulmate would reject him. A soulmate, any soulmate, wouldn’t want a man with only one leg. A useless man, a burden. The voice of his father rang in his ears. He didn’t need education, he needed a strong back to work in the mines, that was all he was good for. And now he wouldn’t even be able to do that. All Joe Toye had going for him was a strong body to provide for his future family. And he had lost that too.

The hospital was even worse than he’d imagined. In his mind he saw disgusted nurses, doctor shaking their heads at him as he hobbled along in one leg. The sympathy in their eyes was much worse. He’d been staring up at the ceiling waiting for the surgeon and avoiding the gazes of the nurses when a you stopped by his side, dressed in scrubs and ready. You gave him a small smile, and Toye’s hands gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked him, in the sort of voice that could disarm anyone.

Toye moved his head to the side, to stop you from noticing the grey mark on his cheek. You’d see it soon enough, but it was nice to pretend you wouldn’t judge him for it just yet.

“Hey,” you said softly, placing your hand on his cheek and gently turning his head back to look at you. 

With a gasp, you pulled your hand back, and Joe grimaced. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust in your face from touching that horrid mark. Only...you were crying. You placed your hand against his cheek again, and felt your eyes fill with tears. Joe couldn’t bear it, and he closed his eyes tightly. 

“It’s okay,” you murmured, watching as the sedatives took effect. “It’s going to be okay.” 

Joe groaned as he rejoined the world of the living. It was late at night and the grumbles and moans from other patients reminded him of where he was. His eyes fell on you. You’d fallen asleep next to his bed, your arms folded on the bed next to his leg, your lips parted slightly in your sleep. When he moved, you rubbed your face against your folded arms. Joe’s own lips parted when he noticed the spots of colour on your palm. Your whole palm was covered in pastel colours, reminding him of a watercolour postcard he’d seen as a child in a kiosk. When the morphine kicked in again, he dreamt of clouds in soft hues of pink and blues.

Joe heard the syllables of his name differently when he woke up again. Where they had once sounded harsh and unforgiving, now they were soft. His name fell from your lips in a different way than it had all his life. Even if it was the same name, even if he was still Joe Toye. The meaning of his name, the intricacies of his soul had been uncovered by none other than you. When he asked for a mirror he wasn’t examining his body for the scars of war, he wasn’t looking for the marks of hell etched in his mortality. He tilted his head, and where he had been grey, and desolate, now he was brimming with soft blues and greens, with streaks of pink and yellows, his soulmark complementing yours. 

When Joe Toye looked back at you, at your smile and the curve of your jaw, at the shadows of your eyelashes on your cheeks, he was finally able to smile.


End file.
